


the harder the rain, honey

by ride_the_dinos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie Needs a Hug (Marvel), Carol's gay lads, F/F, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), aside from Pirate King Elizabeth Swan who could literally kill me with a spoon and i'd thank her, gay for Them, heavy on the poetic license, i am also gay lads, im so proud of brunnhilde yall dont even know, my one true fuckin king, why is the tag formatted like that guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 11:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30054672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ride_the_dinos/pseuds/ride_the_dinos
Summary: -“I’ve been sober far too long, Ms. Danvers.”-
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Carol Danvers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	the harder the rain, honey

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I gave this fic a Hozier title. gay trifecta for the win bby 
> 
> pls enjoy this has been sitting in my drafts since Ragnarok :)

Carol wonders how she finds herself here, of all places. 

Thick snow blanketing the shoreline melts around her feet, pink tendrils of energy licking the damp pebbles as she lands. The air filling her lungs coats the back of her tongue with the sharp taste of ozone.

To her left, dark clouds billow across the ocean’s surface, thunder bouncing against it’s waves. To her right, a kaleidoscope of houses poke out of the snow in all their cracked, faded glory. 

New Asgard, home to a broken people.

Maybe it was the rawness of a community starting from scratch that drew her in to this frozen harbour nestled beneath white cliffs. Or maybe, it was the rawness of a certain brunette that kept her attention sharp.

She’s only just stepped toward the docks when a familiar voice echoes above her:

“What are you doing here?”

Carol stopped, soaking in the defensive posture of the warrior-turned-queen. Her tone was harsh, like waves crashing over jagged rock, but the curve of her mouth and the dark smudges beneath her eyes screamed a kind of exhaustion to which the ocean could never fall victim. Her muscles were taught with a defensive sort of tension, though  _ who _ Valkyrie was defending from whom was a thin mystery to Carol. 

Chalking the queen’s mood up to weariness and general frustration rather than anything against her personally, Carol shrugged and stuffed both hands into her hoodie, rocking back on her heels. 

"Got sick of the desert.”

Valkyrie snorted and regarded her hesitantly for a moment, before turning to disappear from sight. 

Carol was quick to follow, energy snapping silently at the frozen sand as she leapt over the short rock ledge to fall into graceful step with the brunette.

Even with her boots on, Valkyrie was a couple inches taller than her, which was saying something since the ex-pilot was a few inches shy of six feet. She stole a glance up at the other woman and couldn’t help but notice the way Valkyrie’s dusky hair shook loose from it's braid, delicate strands catching on her dark lashes and to the dampness of her bottom lip. All at once she had the urge to brush the fibers away, to catch that bottom lip between her teeth and wrap her arms around the warrior’s ribs. To melt her cold exterior and warm her weary bones, sink deep into the sand and never return to the surface again. 

“Storm will be here soon.”

Carol's attention snapped away from the desire aching in her chest to follow Valkyrie’s gaze on the horizon. Lighting wove through the clouds in a dangerous tapestry of raw energy, the echoing thunder gaining weight in it’s threats. The clouds, now black in their intensity, promised a violent melody. 

Carol meets Valkyrie’s dark gaze, and she sees that same intensity.

It sends shivers down her spine and she’s glad she has her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, otherwise the other woman would have been witness to the tendrils of energy licking between her fingertips. Her eyelids itched and she blinked, looking away, but it was too late- the Queen of New Asgard had seen the golden light flicker behind her irises, the ferocity of emotion rising in waves beneath skin charged with the power of stars. 

“Come on, I’m cold,” is all the woman said. 

Carol trudged along behind her, willing her muscles to relax and emotions to be reigned in as they neared Valkyrie’s home, a modest two story house behind the main hall of the tiny kingdom. 

The pair stomped their boots off, (Carol simply out of social habit, since the snow melted soon as it neared her body), and stepped through the door into the cozy space. 

Valkyrie peeled layer after layer of warm winter clothing off until she was left in a set of yoga pants and tank top, bare feet near silent on the wood floors. Carol took off her boots and placed them beside the other woman's, but left her hoodie on, hugging her own torso as she followed Valkyrie into the kitchen, slipping onto one of the barstools.

Tension still ran up and down the brunette’s spine, movements carefully controlled as she started the stovetop and placed a pot of milk on to boil. She avoided Carol’s curious gaze as she pulled a variety of jars and mugs out of the cabinets, preparing sipping chocolate. 

It wasn't until the milk began to boil that she spoke. 

“You are not here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers, are you?” 

Carol wondered why Valkyrie would care, seeing as she was ruling a country halfway across the world and Thor was still planet-hopping with some trailer park space junkies. 

“I haven’t spoken to Nick in a few months, and the new Avengers are still a bit. . . scattered," Carol admitted, taking in the way Valkyrie's entire body seemed to collapse in relief, ". . why did you think I had come from them?"

Valkyrie leaned back against the counter, glaring out the window at the stormy landscape. 

"Hill showed up a few weeks ago. Told me about the UN and asked if I wanted to attend an upcoming meeting, see if I was interested in the growth they're preaching. I told her to fuck off."

Carol snorted and chewed at one of her hoodie strings, "That's pretty tame, considering it was Maria."

"Yes . . . but  _ then _ she attempted to recruit my people to Fury's new cause," Valkyrie gritted out, nails digging into biceps as her gaze cut to Carol's. 

The hoodie string dropped, "oh."

". ..and they accepted."

"How many?” 

“Seventeen of my men and nine of my women” Valkyrie gritted out. 

Carol observed the tension underlying the other woman's movements as she spoke, "That's not too ba-"

"Don't you  _ dare _ try to convince me that that isn't a lot. Because it is. It's  _ too many _ . And Fury had  _ no _ right." 

They stared at each other in the tense silence until Carol nodded, glancing out the foggy window to the storm brewing beyond. 

"You're right. Those two are bullheaded when it comes to power." 

When Valkyrie remained silent she met her eyes and added a soft "I'm sorry." 

The woman turned away, finishing with the drinks in silence. 

Carol listened to the ever-growing storm as she watched. Valkyrie had to have been struggling the past few months. To gain so much, to try  _ so hard _ , only to lose it all again in such a short period of time… that kind of healing to be interrupted, it held a special kind of heartbreak. 

"The ones that left. . ." she ventured aloud, avoiding what she actually wanted to ask, "how are they handling all of this?" 

"They're doing as well as can be expected. Learning to live again. Trying to keep the traditions and memory alive while moving on at the same time is the hardest thing many of them have ever had to do."

“Is there any way I can help?” 

“No more than you already have.” 

Carol frowned, considering the few scattered weeks she’s been able to dedicate to this island between everything else going on. 

Wind blasts the windows, the distant cliff faces illuminated with each flash of lightning. 

“And how are you doing?” 

A vein over Valkyrie’s jaw pops as she sets the mug in front of Carol on the counter, turning around to turn off the stove. Her hand is shaking. 

“They are not the only ones who grieve. But I am grieving what could have been, not just…” She takes a deep breath and lifts her chin, blowing a stray hair out of her face, turning back around to meet Carol’s eyes. 

“I am fine. I’m just...disappointed. Tired. There’s so much to do and Maria took half of my working force. I’m picking up the slack best I can but running a kingdom takes so much more than just strong hands.” 

Carol hums. She still hasn’t touched her mug. Valkyrie smirks, amusement flashing through melancholy eyes. 

“I’ve been sober far too long, Ms. Danvers.” 

Carol slips from the stool, stepping around the counter until they are both leaning against the counter with hips propped, so close Valkyrie can no doubt feel the waves of heat emanating from Carol’s flesh. She sees that dry amusement grow into something else, something just as dark and intense as the storm beyond their walls. Carol wants to open the floodgates, soak it in. She wants her bones to rattle with the ferocity of it all. 

Valkyrie doesn’t move. Stands there with her head cocked and her shoulders held back, one hand relaxed on the counter between them. 

Carol steps closer, blindly reaching out to trace pale scars etched across the warrior’s dark knuckles, eyes never once breaking their contact. She gives in to the bone-deep ache in her chest and leans forward, brushing her lips across the other woman’s cheek gently, pressing another to her brow, and another to her lips. She’s met with the slow relaxing of shoulders, a near inaudible release of breath. She feels it on her lips. 

“Let me help.”

Valkyrie closes her dark eyes, nods, and opens the floodgates. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am aware that no one reads this shit anymore. No one cares about marvel even *I* dont care about marvel. if u got this far tho thank you! feel free to come say hi or somthn


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